


come feed the little birds, show them you care

by slashmania



Series: Practically Perfect [4]
Category: Inception (2010), Mary Poppins (1964)
Genre: Arthur really does have a gentle soul, Fluff, M/M, but he wants to be known in dreamshare as a badass, but not around cats, feed the birds, more of Eames loving Arthur Poppins and not thinking his gifts are odd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 15:18:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17831072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmania/pseuds/slashmania
Summary: Arthur just couldn't shut out the sounds of the birds trying to get his attention.Hungry, hungry, hungry, said the knot of chirping sparrows and cooing pigeons."It's nothing," Arthur said. "Just a little distracted." He offered his last handful of stale breadcrumbs to the birds, hoping that would appease them.





	come feed the little birds, show them you care

**Author's Note:**

> Not the Valentine's fic I wanted to do, but after walking past a bunch of sparrows yesterday and thinking "...if Mary Poppins can talk to dogs, I bet she can talk to other animals too. And if Arthur can also talk to animals, I bet he'd be worried about feeding the birds in case a hungry cat comes by."
> 
> So that's why this happened. It became a lot longer than I thought, but I had a lot of fun writing Arthur's different interactions with animals- I'm sorry, the one with the stray dog made me sad, but I didn't want to take it out!- then I added more stuff about cats because I like the idea of cats wanting to take care of Arthur as he was busy trying to take care of Cobb.
> 
> Enjoy!

"You've gone quiet, Arthur," Eames said. "Something on your mind?"

They were having such a nice day at the park, Arthur didn't want to spoil it. Though Eames readily accepted so much of Arthur's oddness, Arthur tried to not make it so obvious when he was chatting with the animals up above in reality. They hadn't really talked about that yet.

Talking animals were easily explained away in dreams. Even the talking animals they'd seen after jumping into a chalk drawing were easier to explain. All of the stories he'd heard about Mary and Bert's jolly holiday supported the existence and logic of talking and singing animals. His grandmother was the practically perfect nanny- she could sing, dance on rooftops, make boring tasks fun, and never ever explained anything. She didn't have to.

But sometimes Arthur felt he had to explain certain things. As they had been chatting about one of their upcoming jobs, idly spreading breadcrumbs, Arthur's attention was soon divided between the forger and the birds. The space in front of Arthur and Eames's park bench was being visited by a small flock of birds, all of them chirping and cooing as they pecked at the breadcrumbs.

Arthur just couldn't shut out the sounds of the birds trying to get his attention.

 _Hungry, hungry, hungry_ , said the knot of chirping sparrows and cooing pigeons.

"It's nothing," Arthur said. "Just a little distracted." He offered his last handful of stale breadcrumbs to the birds, hoping that would appease them.

 _There's a cat who comes by around this time_ , a particularly plump sparrow was saying to Arthur.

There were plenty of people out and about on such a sunny day. Others were feeding the birds. Arthur was on watch for the cat the little bird reported.

 _It's a big tabby,_ another bird said. Arthur spotted the pigeon pecking away at the crumbs Eames had scattered on the ground before them. Arthur nodded in response to what the pigeon told him. Arthur glanced at Eames and noticed that while the man was busy folding up the paper bag he'd kept the crumbs in, he was also patiently waiting for Arthur to say something. It was like the man had developed a secondary sense for when Arthur was going to say something about another one of his Poppins gifts.

Arthur also folded up the bag he'd used to hold the crumbs, but paused when he heard some of the smaller birds chirping, _M_ _ore please?_

Arthur sighed, glancing around before he said to the birds, "I'm sorry, that's all that I have." And then he turned to Eames and said, "Before you say anything, yes, that was exactly what it looked like." He paused and looked down and the birds who had began chirping at him again.

"Yes, yes," Arthur answered. "You're welcome."

And then Arthur waited for Eames to say something.

"You can talk to the birds," Eames commented. "Or the birds talk to you?" Eames was taking this news as easily as any other Poppins related thing Arthur mentioned or displayed- everything from snapping his fingers to make stuff move to having a reflection that mostly mirrored him. Mostly. Nothing had fazed Eames. Why would Arthur think that revealing this would ruin the day? So Arthur relaxed and just continued to explain it. 

"Anyone can talk to birds," Arthur said still keeping his eyes open for that cat. "Its really not that hard to do," Arthur was saying. "I'd say its all about listening carefully to what they're saying."

"Is it just birds?"

"Birds are the most talkative, but really any animal can do it. Dogs can do it, but it's mostly related to what we're feeling, saying, or doing. Dogs are very empathic and mostly just want us to feel better. They're little therapists, I swear."

After Mal's funeral, Arthur had needed to have some time alone, so he'd gone walking till he found a bar. He drank but cut himself off before embarrassing himself in front of a bartender. When he walked out he'd stumbled around and drew the attention of a stray dog. They'd sat together at a table in front of a coffee shop, the dog's head resting against Arthur's knee. The dog occasionally licked at Arthur's fingers and said, _You're a very good human, a very very good human. I'm sorry you're so sad_ , while Arthur tried not to cry into his mug of black coffee.

Arthur couldn't tell that story right now. Besides, he was drawn from that memory when he heard a tone of voice that was different from the birds before them but not as empathetic as a dog.

Arthur didn't mean to imply that cats didn't have empathy. During the first few months on the run with Cobb, Arthur had been adopted by more than one cat. Like the stray dog, the cats had noticed Arthur needed something. But cats were nothing if not practical.

The cats who adopted Arthur liked to see that he ate good things. They brought him dead mice, telling him in their no nonsense way, _This is very good for you. You can't be strong and fast without plenty of food._ Arthur would get rid of the dead mice discretely and thank the cats, reminding them that it wasn't polite to leave the dead mice in Cobb's shoes.

They brought live mice for him to play with, thinking that Arthur was bored as he worked at his laptop or looked after the still grieving Cobb. The mice were frightened when they were stolen by the cats, but when they spotted Arthur they shrieked in horror, _Hungry?!!_

Arthur always winced at the sharp squeaks of rodent terror. He had to speak to them softly, assure them that he wasn't going to eat them, or play with them. He'd set them free once the cats were gone, patiently listening to the fragmented directions the mice gave him.

The cats didn't just try to see to Arthur's health, but when they offered affection it was always on their terms. So Arthur never tried to coax one of those cats to him. He didn't pet them, but he'd found that sometimes a cat would curl up in his lap or lay across his chest while he'd been hooked up to the PASIV, dreaming.

 _The little plump one will do,_ Arthur heard the cat say.

It was so close! Arthur could hear it, and turned his head in the direction he thought it was coming from.

"They mentioned a cat," Arthur said to Eames, still listening for the cat. "A big tabby."

 _Little closer,_ the cat was saying softly to itself.

Arthur stayed very still, and said to Eames, "Beneath the bench, Eames."

Then, Arthur cleared his throat and spoke to the cat.

"Excuse me," Arthur said, folding his hands on his lap and speaking while looking down. If he watched carefully he could see the cat's striped tail flick out before disappearing again beneath the bench. None of the birds had noticed it yet. "Can I please speak to you about something?"

_No, busy, leave me alone._

"I was just thinking," Arthur was saying to the cat, resisting an urge to see what expression was on Eames's face. "Wouldn't you like something else for a snack?"

The cat didn't say anything for a moment. Arthur wasn't sure if it was preparing to pounce on one of the lingering birds still pecking away at the remaining bits of bread.

_...I'm listening._

"Why have a bird?" Arthur shrugged. "I mean, it sounds like it's going to be a good idea when you're hungry, but after you go to all the trouble of catching it, you still have to deal with the feathers. And after all the fluff is gone, its just a mouthful. You'll still probably be hungry."

"Seems to be a lot of effort for something so tiny, Arthur," Eames agreed. "You know you don't have to hide beneath the bench and chat with us," Eames was saying to the cat beneath the bench.

He wasn't even trying to see if anyone was listening to him. He took a moment to wink at Arthur before returning his attention to the cat. "I bet that I could make you something better than some little sparrow."

 _Cat!!!_ one of the birds suddenly said, rousing all the others into action. The birds flew away to safety, and Arthur could hear the cat's curse from beneath the bench.

 _My bird!_ It began to growl, frustrated.

"I guess you'll have to take us up on our offer then, won't you?" Eames continued though he couldn't understand the cat like Arthur could. Then he took a chance and waggled his fingers in front of the space beneath the bench, trying to coax the cat out. "I know that cats shouldn't have fish all the time, but we were already going to have salmon for dinner. Do you want a little?"

The cat slipped out from beneath the bench. It was a male cat with dark gray fur and darker stripes, and a distinctive M-shaped pattern on its face. It gingerly sniffed at Eames's fingers.

"It's up to you, of course," Arthur added.

After a moment had passed the cat said nothing, then ran away, disappearing into the bushes.

Eames frowned in the direction the cat went. "Well, I guess that was a no."

Arthur shook his head. "I don't know, Eames. Cats can be a little weird. It might show up later for some fish, or it might not."

Eames raised an eyebrow. "Can cats also figure out where we live without us telling them?"

Arthur cleared his throat and pointed at the bushes. From their position on the bench they could see the tip of a familiar striped tail flicking in and out of the leaves. The cat was clearly waiting for them.

"I think he might follow us home, but only if we don't spot him on the way."

Arthur stood up and offered Eames his hand.

"Then lets walk slowly so he doesn't get lost."

They took the paper bags used to store the breadcrumbs and tossed them in the nearby trashcan as they walked past. They purposefully didn't look behind them as they walked.

"Don't be surprised if he offers you mice," Arthur said as they walked.

"Okay, its only fair since he lost his chance to take down a sparrow."

Later on when they arrived at their current lodging, Arthur opened the sliding door, but kept the screen door closed. He would hear the cat once it entered the backyard area. He had a bowl of water ready in case the cat was thirsty when he arrived.

It may have been awhile since Arthur had prepared anything for a cat, but he was familiar with the little things he'd done in the past for cats who decided to look after him as he looked after Cobb. It wasn't so hard.

"Darling," Eames asked while preparing to bake the fish in the oven. "Did we just adopt a cat?"

Arthur had thought his question was going to be about what sides to serve with the fish, so it took him a second to answer. They'd never talked about getting any pets together.

"For now, I think that all we're doing is giving the cat something to eat because he missed out on catching a bird."

Eames had lightly coated the salmon fillets with olive oil, then used a little salt and pepper to season them. He put the fish on a non-stick baking sheet and placed it into the preheated oven.

"You were looking out for the birds, but you still feel sorry for the cat," Eames commented, shutting the oven so he could move to Arthur's side. The point man was still looking out the screen door.

"It's different when you can understand them. Its in a cat's nature to hunt birds and mice, but..."

"You're a softie, Arthur."

Arthur muttered, "I'm a well respected badass in dreamshare."

"And you worry over animals and tried to talk a cat out of killing a sparrow. You're perfect," Eames said pointedly, pressing a kiss against Arthur's temple before moving back towards the small kitchen. "I think the salmon would go well with a side salad. What do you think?"

"Sure, I'll give you a hand and make the dressing."

Eames had set aside a piece of salmon and covered it to keep it warm. When the cat arrived later, meowing at the screen door, Arthur got there first.

Arthur noticed that the cat had brought them two mice, still alive. The cat looked extremely proud of itself and was clearly waiting for Arthur to say something.

"Oh, hello," Eames said as he appeared at Arthur's side with the cat's salmon. He didn't even blink at the cat's offering. He smiled and passed a small box to Arthur. The box had several small holes punched through the sides. "Those look lovely," Eames said, referring to the mice the cat had brought, "how about you put them in the box for Arthur so we'll have them later on, and you can have your salmon outside?"

After Arthur opened the screen and let the cat drop the mice into the box, Eames placed the cat's plate outside along with the bowl of water. The cat purred as it ate, not noticing when Arthur walked the mice to the front door, the point man carefully listening to their squeaking.

"Outside, by the tree...next to the mailbox," Arthur repeated while he stood in front of the door. He paused for just a moment and turned to see Eames kneeling in front of the cat, watching as it bolted its meal.

"See? Much better than a bird. It was very nice of you not to go after it, and to give Arthur a chance to talk you around. He's a gentle soul, really-"

Arthur smiled to himself and walked outside. He walked past his mailbox, then reached the tree, and opened the box. He let the mice crawl out and softly said, "Now don't get caught again, okay? I won't always be able to step in."

Then he turned around and walked back inside with an empty box.


End file.
